


Salt-Rose

by tenandi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Assistant to the Lawyer, BDSM, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Inexperienced Crowley, Intimidating Mr. Fell, Other Duties as Assigned, Recovery, Sweet soft Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: Anthony is sent home from the treatment center where he's been recovering from depression, anxiety, and anorexia. At twenty-three years old he's never worked a job or lived on his own. When he attains an assistant position at a law firm for Mr. A.Z. Fell, he finally begins to open himself up to new experiences. And if there's a little spanking involved, he's not going to complain.A tribute to 'The Secretary,' Good Omens style
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

Anthony Crowley walked out of the revolving doors and saw his mother sitting in her beat-up car. He glanced back at the treatment center, wondering if it was too late to go back inside, but they told him it was time to rejoin the real world. He bowed his head, slinging his duffel bag over one shoulder before closing the distance between the place that had become a haven for him, and the unknown future. He settled into his mother’s sedan, shifting awkwardly as he slung the bag in the backseat and followed after it.

“Hello honey,” Mrs. Crowley said softly.

“Mum,” the redhead mumbled.

No more words were exchanged as they began the long ride home.

-

Depression. Anxiety. Anorexia. They treated the symptoms but couldn’t change the inherent factors leading to the diagnosis, which had a lot to do with the fact that Anthony still lived with his parents, who were dysfunctional. A term he’d learned in treatment. His therapist told him he’d need to get a job as soon as possible to remove himself from the negative home environment. Sadly, he didn’t have any friends to stay with in the meantime. But he was newly motivated on a series of prescriptions with a more positive forecast. And he wanted change. 

Anthony didn’t really have any particular skills, so he decided to attain a vocational certificate as soon as possible. He looked into the options. For some reason, office management caught his attention. He’d never really considered himself to be a creative person, and the program looked straightforward enough. Within three semesters he was able to complete his objective, and now had only to find the right job opening.

He applied to several positions, but it was the law office that he was most excited about. A.Z. Fell & Associates. It sounded so regal. When he gained the interview, his mother offered to buy him a suit, which he begrudgingly agreed to. He’d put on at least ten pounds during his in-patient service, but the jacket still sagged off of his shoulders and the pants necessitated a tight belt. She insisted he’d grow into it.

The night before the interview his mother was cooking dinner when his father arrived home, already drunk. It didn’t take long for a domestic to break out and Anthony excused himself, having suddenly lost his appetite. Instead, he went to his room and looked at the suit hanging on the back of his door. He stared at it longingly, as if it held the answers to all of his problems. He hoped it did.

-

Anthony walked into the office in a modest two-story brick building. There were no other candidates in line, so he made himself comfortable as he waited for someone to get him. The reception desk was abandoned. At last, a young man shot out of the adjacent hallway, his face drenched in tears. He stared balefully at Anthony as he grabbed his coat from the desk chair.

“Good fucking luck!” he sobbed before storming out the door. Anthony crossed his ankles nervously, terrified and uncertain about what he’d just witnessed.

Luckily, an unaffected man followed shortly after, inclining his head thoughtfully at the redhead. “Crowley?” the older man asked, his voice calm and steady.

“Um, yeah,” Anthony replied.

The older man had pale blonde hair and was dressed immaculately. Anthony already felt scruffy under his scrutinizing gaze. He wished he’d at least gotten a haircut beforehand.

At last, the man nodded and walked back toward the hallway. Anthony flinched before standing up, hoping that he was supposed to follow. He did, just in case.

Anthony caught a glimpse of the man’s trouser leg disappearing into the back office. The door was left wide open, so he invited himself in. The man was sitting on a large black leather sofa, his expectant blue-gray eyes watching the redhead like an eagle soaring far above him. A predator sizing up its prey.

“Sit,” the man said authoritatively. Anthony complied and they sat in silence until it became unbearable. The sound of the air conditioning firing on amplified the awkwardness.

“I’m A.Z. Fell,” the man said finally. “You’re here for the job posting.”

“Yes sir,” Anthony said, clearing his throat as quietly as possible. His long skinny fingers clenched on the chair.

“I assume you’re qualified,” Mr. Fell said, leaning back into the sofa. One arm came up to balance lightly over the back.

Anthony’s stomach flipped nervously. “I am. Yes. Got a certificate.” He was sure he’d mentioned that on his resume.

“Experience?” the lawyer asked. One of his shiny brogues had begun to bounce in the air and Anthony was drawn to the movement, which ceased abruptly.

“I um…” Anthony tried, “That is to say… No, sir. I’ve not held a job before.”

Mr. Fell’s eyes swept over him as if assessing his worth as a human being. Anthony felt like this man could see right through him, perhaps even into the very heart of him. It was unnerving.

“How old are you?” the blonde demanded.

Anthony ducked his head and stared at his shoes. “Twenty-three,” he answered.

Mr. Fell made a guttural sound in the back of his throat. “You’re very young. I’m not sure you’d like it here.”

The redhead glanced up at the man, fear of rejection overwhelming him. “N-no sir,” he said a little too quickly. “I think I’d like it very much!” Anthony stared into the lawyer’s fierce eyes, willing himself not to blink.

“I don’t take on many clients,” the blonde elaborated. “There wouldn’t be a lot for you to do.”

“I don’t mind,” Anthony countered, voice subdued.

Mr. Fell smiled tersely, leaning forward in his seat. “It’s very dull work.”

“Please, sir,” Anthony pleaded, starting to feel his self-control fade. He bit his lower lip as he tried to keep the tears at bay. “I need this.”

The lawyer studied him quietly, his eyes roving up and down Anthony’s slight frame, his trembling hands. “Yes,” he replied. “I imagine you do.”

Mr. Fell stood and made a practiced walk to the nearby window. He stared outside for a few moments as if the conversation had ended.

Anthony’s gaze flicked to the unoccupied side of the office where he was amazed to see an incredible terrarium filled with exotic looking flowers. He’d never seen anything like them before. He nearly jumped when a soft hiss announced a diffusion of steamy water from the top of the tank. He watched in wonder as the flowers trembled under the mist, seeming to reach up to the nourishing spray. For a moment, Anthony wished he could be in there with them.

Mr. Fell had turned back to the redhead, and Anthony stopped breathing when he realized he’d been under observation. Something inscrutable flickered over the lawyer’s face. “You can start Monday,” he said.

Anthony swallowed as he stood up, unsure of what to do with his hands. The lawyer had already turned away from him again. Not wanting to disturb the man, Anthony muttered an assenting sound before showing himself out. When he stepped outside his entire body started to shake. He was absolutely dripping in sweat. But he’d done it. He’d done it.

-

Anthony’s first week provided him with a simple and regular routine. He’d spend the morning answering correspondence, taking messages, and filing forms for Mr. Fell. There was a short break for lunch, and then the afternoons were often blocked out for scheduling and receiving clients. The lawyer hadn’t misled him. Those were few and far between, but Anthony found ways to busy himself between appointments. He worked on various billing spreadsheets and organized the office into a more workable order. He prided himself in his work, however little was delegated to him.

It was during the second week that Mr. Fell called him to his office, just before lunch. Anthony hardly saw his boss other than brief salutations in the mornings. When he left at five Mr. Fell was usually still hard at work, his door tellingly closed. In fact, this was the only occasion he’d entered the lawyer’s office after his initial interview.

“Take a seat Mr. Crowley,” his boss said, inclining his head to the same place Anthony had sat before. He settled into the chair and waited, docile and expectant.

Mr. Fell approached and sat across from him, an unusually open expression on his face.

“You’ve been here, let’s see...almost two weeks. Is that correct?” he began.

Anthony counted in his head before nodding.

“And you know, as I’ve informed you, that lunch is at noon sharp each day?”

Anthony nodded again. He remembered Mr. Fell mentioned that on his first day.

“It’s strange,” the blonde continued. “Because you don’t leave at noon. For the last...thirteen days, you’ve remained in that same spot at reception rather than take your break.”

Anthony tensed. “Have I done something wrong, sir?”

Mr. Fell smiled, and it was like the sun had burst forth from a swarm of storm clouds. He even laughed, a few chiming bells in the sound. “No, no. You’re not in trouble Mr. Crowley. Yet I wonder…”

The lawyer leaned forward, his face falling back into the mask Anthony was more familiar with. His fist came up to support his chin, elbow balanced on his knee. “Don’t you ever get hungry, Mr. Crowley?”

Anthony flushed and swallowed tightly. He’d been so caught up in pleasing his boss he’d neglected to eat lunch since he’d taken the job. He hadn’t even noticed. His therapist would be disappointed. “I um…” he started, formulating a reply, “I’m sure I’ve just forgotten sir.”

“What luck,” Mr. Fell said smoothly as he reached behind him, revealing several containers of takeaway. “I just happen to have some leftovers from my business lunch. You’ll have some.” Anthony didn’t miss the fact that this was not an invitation, and nodded accordingly.

“Thank you sir,” he said softly.

Mr. Fell prepped a few plates, piling Anthony’s high with vegetable stir-fry before handing it over. He spared a little for himself, holding his own plate on his lap and watching the redhead expectantly.

Anthony stared down at his plate, pushing the noodles around before lifting his fork halfway. His tongue felt stuck in his mouth. He didn’t usually eat such heavy meals.

Mr. Fell glanced down at his plate, gathering a generous amount on his fork before bringing it under his nose and inhaling headily. “Mm,” he groaned. “I promise you’ll never have better Chinese food, Mr. Crowley. Cooking is an artform you know, and this dish, I like to think, is the Mona Lisa.” Without further ado, he wrapped his mouth around the noodles and sucked them off his fork like he was tasting them for the first time. His eyes rolled back in his head, a moan echoing from the center of his chest as he savored the bite. Anthony couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

Mr. Fell swallowed, his eyes sparkling. There was something lascivious in the gesture, the theatrics of consumption. It was almost...sexual. Anthony blinked hard to reset himself.

The lawyer was still staring at him, his tongue flicking out to retrieve any lingering sauce around his mouth. “Do try it,” he insisted.

Anthony took his suspended bite and chewed thoughtfully, finding that the taste was better than he’d initially expected. He glanced up at Mr. Fell and smiled shyly. “‘S good,” he told him with his mouth full.

Mr. Fell practically cawed in delight. “Precisely!” he cheered. “It’s good to try something new, I always say. You’ve done very well, Mr. Crowley.”

Anthony felt something bloom in his chest at the praise. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had congratulated him, let alone over something so trivial. But it felt amazing.

His boss stood up, brushing at his tailored trousers. He stared down at his assistant as if he’d just climbed Mt. Everest, rather than take a simple bite of food. “You’ll finish that,” he said easily. “And from now on, you’ll bring something to eat each day that you work here. Something sensible, representing each of the food groups, to keep your strength up. Do you understand Mr. Crowley?”

Anthony nodded, a little bewildered at the precise language, but it felt right to him. “Yes Mr. Fell,” he acknowledged.

“Good,” the lawyer said. “Very, very good.”

Anthony took another bite, and he felt an invisible switch flip on internally. It was then that he knew he would do anything, absolutely anything, that this man told him to do.


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Anthony was unpacking his lunch in the small breakroom. A banana, carrot sticks, some shredded chicken, and a small container of rice. He was just about to settle in when he saw Mr. Fell storm past the doorway. A resounding slam told him that he’d made it to his office.

Mr. Fell wasn’t angry often, but when he was, it could be extremely unsettling. He tended to rage rather than stew, to blow up rather than play the diplomat. These fits were never directed at Anthony, but they were intimidating all the same. The redhead tried to make himself scarce during these incidents, and usually Mr. Fell was content to stay in his office rather than move about. But not today.

“Mr. Crowley!” his voice boomed through the walls. Anthony dropped the carrot stick he’d been holding and stood on shaky legs. Steeling himself, he made his way to his boss’ door, knocking timidly. When there was no reply, he entered as quietly as he could.

Mr. Fell was sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded. His bowtie was askew and his jacket had been left draped over his chair rather than neatly hung. The blonde’s eyes were averted, starting moodily at the wall. He almost looked surprised when he saw Anthony standing there, which was odd considering he’d been summoned.

“It’s your lunch break,” Mr. Fell snapped.

Anthony shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, yes sir.”

Something in the sharp blue-gray eyes softened, almost as if he were about to apologize, but he didn’t. “Make it up later,” he said instead.

Anthony nodded slowly.

The lawyer’s gaze lingered on him. “Mr. Crowley…” he breathed. “You’ve worn the exact same outfit everyday since you started working here.”

The redhead shifted nervously and his hands covered his body as if to conceal himself. “My...my clothes are clean, sir. I wash them every night.”

“I didn’t say your clothes were dirty,” Mr. Fell snapped. He intertwined his fingers and rested them in his lap, composing himself. When he spoke again, his voice was like velvet. “You’ll take the company credit card this weekend. You’ll visit my tailor, Mr. West, who will provide you with at least three additional suits. I expect you to rotate them throughout the week to maintain a more presentable appearance to our clientele.”

Anthony’s face went bright red and he averted his gaze down to the floor.

“Stop that,” Mr. Fell said irritably.

Anthony’s gaze jerked back up, his cheeks on fire. Tears began to form at the edges of his eyes.

The lawyer sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before striding over to a large closet on the far side of the room. “Here, Mr. Crowley.”

Anthony shuffled over to him and realized the closet was filled with the lawyer’s suits, extra ties, and some very fine shoes. His mouth dropped open at the sight. Mr. Fell led him over to a floor-length mirror and stood behind him.

“What do you see, Mr. Crowley?”

Anthony glanced at himself begrudgingly. “My reflection.”

“Ah,” Mr. Fell smirked. “Yes, of course. But what do you see?”

Anthony stared in the mirror. His face was a little gaunt. He wore a baggy blue oxford, brown trousers, and a pair of brown shoes. Nothing to write home about. “Just me,” he said softly.

“No, no, no,” Mr. Fell sighed. His hands came up, landing on either side of the brunette’s waist. Anthony sucked in a breath involuntarily, straightening a little. Mr. Fell’s hands were heavy and warm. Slowly, he began to bunch the excess fabric of Anthony’s shirt, pulling it back until it fit more closely to his frame. Looking in the reflection, Anthony made eye contact with the blonde.

“We see what we want to see,” Mr. Fell told him, his voice infinitely gentle. “Sometimes we start to think that’s all there is.” Anthony’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt the lawyer’s hands roam up over his arms and shoulders. The blonde’s arms were strong as they encircled him and he felt lifted up. He leaned back, allowing his boss to cradle him in that embrace, to support his weight.

“It’s hard to learn how to look again,” Mr. Fell continued. “To see something more. Do you know what I see when I look at you, Mr. Crowley?”

Anthony opened his eyes and saw Mr. Fell’s cheek nearly resting against his neck. He could feel the heat of the man’s breath as it pushed out soothingly on his collarbone. “No,” Anthony whispered.

Mr. Fell turned his head until his lips were mere centimeters from touching the redhead’s skin. “Potential,” he purred. “Pure potential.” His hands slipped away and Anthony struggled to regain his balance. His reflection was left alone, staring back at him in the glass. He stood looking a little longer, unwilling to break the connection he could still feel, the ghost of a warm body pressed into his back. How long had it been since he’d been held?

The slam of the door was the only sign that Mr. Fell had left the office, leaving Crowley to find his own way out. He started to turn on his heel before finding himself drawn to the suit jackets once more. Before he could resist, he pressed his face into them, his hands moving up to bunch in the fabric. He inhaled the dark musk scent of Fell like it was his first breath of oxygen, and perhaps he was born anew.

He whispered to himself. “Pure potential.”

-

Mr. West made time for Anthony that weekend as if he didn’t have other business. He was obviously an expert, and picked out three classic looks for the assistant including a blue, black, and charcoal gray suit. The fitting was relatively painless and he was able to pick up his completed orders late Sunday afternoon. He couldn’t wait to show them to Mr. Fell.

The mysterious blonde had a way of sticking in Anthony’s head. It wasn’t just his words of encouragement or the fact that he was relentlessly handsome. There was something else about the man, a gravitas that pulled Anthony into his orbit, a sense of control in a world that often felt chaotic.

On Sunday night Anthony locked himself in his room and moved from one suit to the next, trying to decide which to wear on Monday. A late night radio show was playing music from the sixties, Lou Reed’s voice drifting in and out. As he looked back and forth from one to another, he ignored the argument turning into a physical fight downstairs. Instead he turned up the radio and imagined Mr. Fell looking proud of him as he walked into the office. “Well done Anthony,” the redhead said to himself, pretending to be the lawyer as his fingers lingered on the fine stitching. “You’re becoming a proper young man.”

Anthony closed his eyes, basking in the idea of praise from his boss. His eyes opened and he stared at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, a remnant from his childhood. “What else can I do for you, sir?” he asked aloud. A warm shudder tickled down his spine.

He exhaled slowly and looked down, surprised to see he was tenting his boxer-briefs. He reached down and touched himself slowly, drawing out the sensation as it occurred to him that this wasn’t his hand. No, this was Mr. Fell’s hand moving over him, the man’s voice whispering in his ear.

“What you can do for me?” the fantasy lawyer chuckled. “Oh no, Anthony. I am infinitely more interested in what I can do for you.”

Anthony let his forehead rest against the closet as he drew his pants down and dragged his fingers from root to tip.

“Ohhhh,” he moaned. “Fuck me Mr. Fell.”

He picked up the pace of his ministrations and remembered the scent of the man. Wild and exotic like the flowers in his office. The whine in the back of his throat grew louder with every thrust and suddenly Anthony imagined himself in the terrarium. The mist falling down over his naked body was Mr. Fell, purifying and cleansing him.

“I love you Anthony…” Those strong arms holding him from behind. Mr. Fell shooting him a rare look of approval.

“Oh fuck!” Anthony bit his lower lip as he spilled over his hand.

-

Monday morning seemed to drag on forever. Typically Mr. Fell arrived around ten after, and now it was half past eight. Anthony kept flicking his gaze toward the door. He could barely concentrate on his billing spreadsheet, and ended up printing it without checking the last few columns, throwing it on top of Mr. Fell’s desk in a rush. He wanted to be at his desk when the man walked in.

At last the door chime sounded and Anthony stood, his eyes wide and mouth twitching. “Good morning, sir,” he said grandly.

Mr. Fell looked distracted as he threw his overcoat on the rack along with his hat. It had started to rain outside, leaving tiny droplets on his tie. Mr. Fell whisked them away with his fingers. “Ah, yes,” he mumbled. “Hello.” He barely glanced at the redhead before walking straight past him, slamming the door to his office.

Anthony’s hands smoothed over his blue suit and fell limp at his sides. Why did it matter so much if Mr. Fell liked his new outfit? If he didn’t, he would have said probably. Anthony tried to console himself, but felt weak-limbed as he dropped into his seat. The rest of the morning was rather dismal as the rain continued to pour, but worst of all was the phone call Anthony received just before lunch. His mother sobbed through the phone, saying something about the hospital. Another broken wrist courtesy of his father. He could barely understand her, and after a few panicked moments something inside him snapped. “I told you to never call me here!” he growled. He slammed down the receiver and moved his lunch to the desk, spreading out the contents in a futile attempt at distraction.

He stared at the food for a few minutes before wiping the entirety off the surface and into the trash. It helped a little. He could feel a modicum of control returning. Next he stood and grabbed his barely functional umbrella. Three spokes stuck out on one side. He left the office, hardly noticing the rain pouring down as he stomped through it aimlessly. At one point he stopped by a nearby tree and bashed it several times with his umbrella, screaming at nothing. He froze when he noticed a shadow moving in Mr. Fell’s office. He awkwardly realized he was being pelted with rain and essentially ruining his new suit while screaming outside like a maniac. He propped the now completely destroyed umbrella over his head and walked away, only coming back to work when he felt his heartbeat return to normal.

When his emotional fit was over, Anthony was left with the consequences of his actions. The brand new coat and trousers were a soaking mess, leaving him looking more like a drowned rat than a lawyer’s assistant. He immediately ran to the restroom to mitigate the damage, sticking himself under the automatic hand dryer as if it could fix anything. He was just wiping at his hair with a paper towel when Mr. Fell walked in.

“I believe your lunch hour has elapsed, Mr. Crowley,” he said. “I was waiting for you at the front.”

“Y-yes sir,” Anthony replied.

Mr. Fell’s eyes roaved over the redhead’s ruined suit, the droplets of water falling from his hair and beading on his nose. “My office,” the lawyer intoned. “Immediately.”

Anthony followed after him, dread mounting with every step. “I’m sorry about the suit-” he started, but his boss cut him off as he closed the door behind them.

“We’ll get to that.” His tone was sharp and strange. Different from when he was frustrated or even angry, but Anthony couldn’t identify exactly how.

The lawyer shoved a hanger at the redhead. “Before you drip all over my Persian carpet,” he said bitingly. Anthony shrugged off the jacket and hung it over the back of the door.

“Come take a look at this,” Mr. Fell went on, pointing to the desk.

Anthony squinted at a print-out covered in red marks. “Is this…?” he began to ask.

“Take a closer look,” Mr. Fell said in a clipped voice.

Anthony leaned over it, hands digging into his waist. It was his billing report from that morning. He swallowed thickly to disguise his fear and opened his mouth to speak, but his boss got there first.

“Mr. Crowley,” the lawyer said darkly, “My instructions are to be followed verbatim. Bend over, put your forearms flat on the desk, and look at that piece of paper as if your life depends on it, or so help me-”

Anthony bent over immediately, his nose inches from the page. His boss let out a huffy sigh before continuing. “Good. Now read, Mr. Crowley.”

The redhead began shakily, reading out the billable hours for Mr. Fell’s clients, until he came to a bright red mark on the page. “I see you’ve crossed out where I multiplied your rate incorrectly sir, and changed 25 to 250.”

Suddenly Anthony found himself flush against the flat surface, having been spanked so hard that his body had stuttered up the desk before returning to its previous position. Slowly, he turned his head to look into Mr. Fell’s eyes. They were harder than he’d ever seen them.

“M-Mr. Fell?” Anthony asked in a choked voice. He was in complete shock and unable to move. Had that really just happened?

The lawyer tugged off his coat and began to roll up his shirtsleeves, looking not the least bit concerned. “Continue.”

Anthony turned back toward the page and hesitated before reading off a few more columns. It wasn’t long until he found another mistake. The response from Mr. Fell was the same, the older man landing two open handed blows on either side of the redhead’s ass.

Anthony shut his eyes tightly, convinced this was a dream or a heartless joke, but he could hear the hitch in Mr. Fell’s breath telling him it was real.

“Keep reading,” the lawyer groaned, fingers lingering on his rear before retracting.

The redhead’s eyes fluttered open as a hot flush swam through his body. Was this...turning him on? He read through the rest of the document dutifully, until coming to the section he’d completely fucked up that morning. There were countless red marks here, and each one added to the toll on his body. Anthony could hardly get the words out between slaps, and he felt himself getting hard as he raked over the desk again and again. Disappointingly, he came to the end of the document and the punishment ended. The lawyer went breathless with panting, and even slumped over Anthony until he felt just the bare press of an erection against his bruising cheeks.

Anthony desperately pushed back into it and Mr. Fell recoiled, moving to the window and facing away.

“Very good, Mr. Crowley,” he murmured. “Leave the jacket and bring the rest of your suit back tomorrow for dry cleaning.”

Anthony struggled to stand up, partially due to the twinge of pain in his rear and partially because he secretly hoped his boss would return for more. When he realized that wasn’t going to happen, the redhead began to tiptoe toward the door. He was shocked when a hand reached out to shut it just as he was pulling it open.

“One more thing Mr. Crowley,” the lawyer hissed, his voice hot in his ear. “I will not abide waste of any kind in this office. If I catch you throwing out food again I’ll be forced to hand-feed you myself until I’m satisfied. Do you understand?”

Anthony swallowed at the thought of Mr. Fell’s fingers in his mouth. He tried to hide his full-body shudder as he made his way back to the bathroom. Once inside, he looked around wildly before locking himself in one of the stalls, his fingers working furiously to undo the belt around his waist. He yanked down his pants and took himself in hand, impossibly hard at the image of his boss feeding him, spanking him, alternating between both. He came quickly with a pathetic mewl, barely able to aim himself into the toilet as his body released every drop of his sustained orgasm.

“Oh god,” he breathed, feeling unravelled and bound at the same time. It was the most delicious feeling in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

The spankings were rare, even though Anthony craved them. The second time came almost a full month after the first. The third, nearly six weeks later. And in between Mr. Fell was nothing but professional with Anthony, as if nothing intimate had ever happened between them, and it was driving the redhead insane. He wanted Mr. Fell, much more so than in the capacity he’d been allowed so far. He wanted to touch the man, to kiss him deeply and tenderly. He wanked off nearly every night imagining the blonde’s heavy body smothering his own, taking everything he wanted and more. Anthony needed more.

He may have been innocent compared to the lawyer in terms of experience, but he also had a rebellious edge that he employed when motivated. On a Friday during his fourth month of working at A.Z. Fell & Associates, he decided to put his skills to the test.

Anthony’s legs were stretched out, his shined shoes resting on the edge of the desk when Mr. Fell walked in. He heard, rather than saw his boss, as his face was obscured behind a glossy magazine. Tentative footsteps approached and Mr. Fell cleared his throat, but Anthony ignored him, feeling positively wicked.

He blanched when his magazine disappeared, and realized that the lawyer had snatched it away, a bewildered look on the blonde’s face. “What the hell are you playing at?” Mr. Fell demanded. “Don’t you know what today is?”

Anthony chewed his lower lip and crossed his arms. His jacket had been left on the rack, his shirtsleeves more pushed up than rolled. Instead of replying, the redhead stared at his boss in an antagonizing manner.

“Seriously,” Mr. Fell tried again. “The defense trial?”

Anthony shrugged. “What’s that got to do with me? You’re the lawyer.” He dropped his eyes to his computer, lazily typing a few notes and ignoring the extremely agitated look on his boss’ face. When Mr. Fell stormed off, he feared he’d gone too far, but the blonde returned with a vengeance seconds later.

“My office,” he spat. “Right now.”

Anthony stood to follow and was shocked when Mr. Fell whirled around, coming to stand mere inches from his face. “Not like that,” he said, barely controlling his temper as his eyes flicked to the floor. “On your hands and knees.”

Anthony’s mouth fell open and he took in a shuddering breath, kneeling down as slowly as he dared. Looking ravenous, Mr. Fell held his gaze for a moment before walking back to his office and sitting in the chair in the center of the doorway.

The carpet was rough and unforgiving. The redhead put one hand in front of the other, crossing the long hallway with determination. Something about approaching the lawyer as an acolyte, palms burning like a demon on hallowed ground... He’d never fully understood martyrdom until that moment.

Mr. Fell stared down at him with a cold expression as he approached. “You think this is a little game, don’t you?” he sneered. “Are you having fun, Anthony?”

The redhead tried to mask his surprise at the use of his first name. Mr. Fell had never said it before. “N-no sir,” he replied unsteadily.

“Good,” Mr. Fell barked. “Because it’s not a fucking game! I run a serious business that affects other people’s lives! I may be the only thing that stands between a client and a prison cell. Yet here you are, swanning all over the place like you own it and me. Believe me when I say you do not!”

Anthony leaned back on his heels, his face a portrait of regret. Tears were beginning to swim in his eyes. “I’m sorry sir,” he choked, pawing at the lawyer’s knee.

“God,” Mr. Fell huffed. “Fuck.” He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, refusing to meet Anthony’s gaze.

“Turn around,” he said darkly. Anthony did as he was told immediately, although a little put off. He’d never been spanked on the floor before.

“T-take off your trousers,” the blonde stuttered.

Anthony froze. “Take...take off…”

“You heard me,” Mr. Fell breathed. His voice had gone a bit ragged.

Anthony’s fingers trembled as he worked off his belt and unzipped, cautiously lowering his trousers to his knees where they met the floor.

“Pants too,” Mr. Fell commanded.

The redhead hesitated, but no other instructions came. He worked off his pants, his long oxford barely concealing his modesty as he faced the door, cheeks burning.

“Bend forward,” Mr. Fell continued. “And spread your legs apart. Let me see you.”

Anthony did as he was told, terrified at the prospect of being so exposed and vulnerable. The cold office air hit his balls as they hung loose between his thighs. Soon he heard the sound of a zip coming undone and he tensed immediately. Slowly, he began to hear Mr. Fell’s breath huffing out, the tell-tale sound of a fist shaking over an eager cock. The realization that Fell was touching himself while watching Anthony made him whine. He wanted to touch himself too but he didn’t dare. This was a punishment in the form of denial.

“Good,” the blonde gasped. “So good for me. Pull your shirt up higher. Let me see that tight little hole.”

Anthony cinched his shirt and pushed back at nothing, feeling his hips begin to move without satisfaction. God he wanted to be pinned to the ground and fucked until he screamed.

“Oh,” Mr. Fell groaned. “Just like that.” His voice was pitching higher as he breathed faster, and Anthony could hear the chair under him squeak as the wheels started to move. The fact that he could make Mr. Fell respond like this, to fuck his own fist wanting Anthony… The redhead whined again, helpless and desperate.

“Fuck!” Mr. Fell gasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Anthony felt a hot wet spurt land on his naked backside and wanted to pass out at the thought. He would do anything to see the look on the lawyer’s face as he came, to hear his name called by that fucked-up angel of a man.

Instead he heard the blonde standing, pushing the chair away. He turned to see him tucking in his shirt, back at that fucking window again, looking out rather than the one place he should be looking - into Anthony’s eyes. He sighed to himself, defeated.

“Clean yourself up,” Mr. Fell said breathlessly. “I’m off to court.” He left without another word, leaving Anthony to curl up on the floor alone and unsated.

-

Anthony caught his boss staring at him several times in the days that followed. Although the redhead didn’t retry the stunt he’d pulled earlier, he knew that he’d gotten to the closed-off lawyer somehow. There was a spark of curiosity in those once distant eyes, a growing attentiveness in them.

Anthony went to a bar after the work week. It was an unusual move for him, but he’d felt a nagging emptiness since his last sexual encounter with Mr. Fell. He wanted to be weighed down by a body. By whose at this point didn’t matter, he could pretend it was his boss all the same. So that’s where he met Christopher, a run of the mill sort who seemed happy enough to share the redhead’s company and pay for his drinks. Anthony wanted more though, and easily convinced the stranger to take him home to a rundown trailer park a few blocks away. Anthony was so eager, so ready to believe he could scratch the itch Mr. Fell had created, but he was dismally disappointed in the attempt. Christopher wasn’t into anything remotely kinky, and even insisted on the missionary position, which had Anthony practically yawning halfway through. He was too careful with his fumbling touch, too gentle in the lazy rocking motion of his hips.

Frustrated and unsatisfied, Anthony began to make his way home when he found himself drifting toward the nicer part of town. He didn’t even know where he was going until he recognized the name of the subdivision as it blurred and refocused in front of his drunken eyes.

“Oh,” he said softly. This was Mr. Fell’s neighborhood. He’d often sorted the mail and had seen the forwarded address often enough. But he’d never imagined it was a real place. A physical location where Mr. Fell did...god knows what after business hours. His desire to know, as ever, got the better of him. He followed his feet until they arrived at an unremarkable one-story, dim but for a few soft lights inside.

He banged on the door, causing a few dogs in the neighborhood to start mouthing off. When he glanced at his watch, he realized it was eleven at night. Oh well, nothing to be done for it now, unless he was going to make a run for it. The thought made him giggle, and this was exactly what he was doing when Mr. Fell opened the door.

The older man clutched at his dressing gown, which barely covered his nude form. Anthony’s eyes skipped over spots of exposed flesh greedily as he leaned forward.

“Anthony?!” Mr. Fell exclaimed.

“I like it when you use my name,” the redhead replied, scratching his fingers over the glass storm door between them.

“What are you doing here?” the lawyer asked, dumbfounded.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, feeling cocky. “You know,” he breathed. His eyes were totally blown as he gazed at the blonde. He felt like his heart could explode for all the love he felt toward this man.

“You can’t be here,” Mr. Fell argued. “This is my home-”

“Azira!” a voice sounded from far inside the house. “Who is that? Come back and finish what you started!”

Anthony blinked, stepping back in shock. “Oh,” he said stupidly. He felt like a fool.

“Anthony,” his boss said more urgently. He’d opened the storm door and was reaching out as the redhead continued to back away.

“Terriblysorry-” Anthony was choking on his own words as he stumbled over the pavement, then turned and ran as fast as he could to nowhere in particular, just away. Away, away.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday was miserable. Mr. Fell didn’t bother to come in at all before lunch, and Anthony half expected some kind of note or message on the phone telling him he was fired. It was just after his break when the lawyer appeared, forcing Anthony to avert his gaze. He was so focused on his own embarrassment that he didn’t notice an unexpected visitor come in just behind Mr. Fell.

Anthony looked up and cursed under his breath when none other than Christopher from the bar tapped on his desk. He must have mentioned where he worked at some point during their evening together. Now Christopher was here with a huge smile on his face, and holding of all things, a small bouquet of daisies.

“Hey sexy,” Christopher purred, totally unaware that the object of his affection was completely disinterested and moreover, totally flustered by his boss’ concurrent presence.

“Uh...hi,” Anthony said softly. He accepted the flowers awkwardly before glancing at Mr. Fell.

The blonde lingered on the threshold, nearly missing as he tried to place his coat on the stand. His eyes never moved off of Christopher, and Anthony wondered for a second if he was actually jealous. Deciding to test that theory, Anthony got up and walked around the desk, tracing his fingers down Christopher’s chest.

“You’re too sweet,” the redhead flirted. “But I’m in the middle of my work day. I’ll call you later?”

Christopher leaned forward to whisper something in Anthony’s ear, making him blush. The redhead half-stifled a giggle and nodded his head, pretending to be absorbed in the image of Christopher walking away until he was out the door.

Immediately, he turned toward his boss with a nonchalant grin. “Nice day so far?” he asked.

Mr. Fell looked at him as if snapping out of a trance. “Right. Yes. Thank you.” He walked back to his office and shut the door softly. Anthony sat back down thinking little of it until the lawyer called him a few minutes later.

“Cancel my appointments today,” the blonde said in a rush.

“Yes sir,” Anthony replied dully.

“And um…” Mr. Fell hesitated. “Come into my office when you’re done.”

Anthony felt his shoulders fall. So this was how he’d be fired. Seemed fitting to do it face to face.

After calling the few clients who were scheduled that day, Anthony went to see his boss in his office. Mr. Fell was sitting on the couch, a few cups of freshly brewed tea on the table before him. He picked one up and offered the other to the redhead whose heart was pounding in his throat.

“Well Mr. Crowley,” the lawyer began. “I thought it might be time to talk about your future.”

Anthony cocked an eyebrow in response.

“As you get older, more...resolved in your career path there are many considerations, you see,” Mr. Fell went on. “Moving up in a company. Making more money. Planning your retirement.”

Anthony fingered the handle on his mug. “I’m not sure I’m ready-”

“But you will be one day,” Mr. Fell interrupted. “Certain life events and ambitions push us forward you know. Wanting to settle down, for instance...falling in love.”

The redhead’s eyes flicked up to see the question rather than the statement on his boss’ lips. “I’m not in love with Christopher,” he said quickly.

Mr. Fell relaxed too suddenly to hide it. He leaned back in his seat, tapping at the side of his mug. “Yes well, regardless-”

“Are you?” Anthony spat, letting his mug land on the table with a rattle, tea sloshing everywhere. “With whoever that guy was the other night? Or are we pretending that didn’t happen?” He folded his arms as if to settle the point.

“Mr. Crowley…” the lawyer began, startled.

“No,” Anthony cut him off. “This is ridiculous. Talk to me like you know me, Azira.” He used the name like a weapon. He’d never even heard it before that weekend.

Mr. Fell narrowed his eyes and let the remaining air in his lungs dissipate before speaking again. “Anthony,” he started more gently. “I try to keep my personal life as...uncomplicated as possible.”

The redhead didn’t bother to hide his snort of disbelief. “Might I recommend not using your subordinates as sex slaves, to start?”

“I’ve never…” Azira began, but then had the good conscience to stop himself. “I admit that I have certain proclivities that are difficult to curb.”

“I’m sure your husband would agree,” Anthony shot back angrily.

“I am not married,” the lawyer retorted. “Nor do I have a boyfriend. My relationships have very specific rules about attachment. Quite simply, I don’t get attached.”

Anthony felt a knife slice straight through his heart but said nothing.

“I never said I was a good man,” Azira went on.

“But you are,” Anthony defended weakly. “You help others. You helped me.”

“I’ve taken advantage of you,” Azira corrected.

Anthony’s hands turned into fists at his sides. “You’ve been a shit, I’ll grant you that, but you’ve also done more for me than you know. You told me you saw my potential and you were right. There’s so much more inside of me than I ever believed. I don’t starve myself anymore and I’ve nearly made enough to move out on my own.”

“I gave you a job,” the blonde conceded. “Anyone could have done that.”

“That’s a lie,” the redhead countered. “You pushed me. You gave me strength. It’s only because I’m so close to all my goals that I can see it now, and it scares me. Does seeing it scare you too? You think I’ll move on without you once I’m better?”

Mr. Fell was aghast, his mask of control slipping with every sentence. Anthony stood up, practically looming over the lawyer. He walked around the table and moved into Azira’s lap without asking, forcing the blonde’s hands down on either side of his body.

“You think if you just take and take that you’ll never have to feel anything, risk anything! That you’ll never get hurt if you don’t try,” the redhead hissed.

“Anthony,” Azira said uncertainly, writhing against the hips pinning him down. “I’m not well. The things I want are debased.”

“I want what you want and more,” Anthony growled back, grinding into his boss’ lap until he felt what he’d been looking for. “That doesn’t make us sick. We’re just different.”

“It’s not healthy!” the lawyer retorted, freeing one hand only to have it forcibly redirected to Anthony’s mouth.

“Who cares?” the redhead breathed, his gaze an open challenge as he sucked down Azira’s middle finger and bit down hard.

Azira surged forward at the same time as Anthony. The pair sunk into a deep, passionate kiss, wilder than either could have imagined. They fell to the floor in a writhing heap of limbs, and for a second, Anthony thought that everything he’d ever wanted was in his grasp. Independence, a career, someone to love him unconditionally...until Azira pulled back.

The blonde scampered up and away, his hands pulling at the curls on his head. “It’s not right,” he argued. “I can’t do this!”

“Please,” Anthony begged as he stood to his full height. “Don’t push me away. We’ll both regret it.”

“Anthony…” Azira looked like an animal in a cage, more out of control than the redhead had ever seen him. He was just...lost. “Anthony I’m sorry if I led you on. This is...you just aren’t going to work out here. Please just clean out your desk and I’ll mail the rest of your pay accordingly.”

Anthony was frozen on the spot. His heart simply stopped. “Don’t…” he attempted, but the blonde was already pushing him out of the office.

“Please don’t come back,” Azira said finally as he closed the door behind him. Anthony heard the sound of the lock engaging and stumbled back like he’d been punched. It was really over.


	5. Chapter 5

Anthony would not be defeated so easily. First and foremost, he found a new job. He used the money he’d saved to rent a small apartment, and now that he was away from his parents his mental health continued to improve. He ate three square meals a day, and soon he filled out the suits Azira had bought him quite nicely.

Perhaps his only destructive habit was that he continued to see Christopher. Their relationship was little more than a placeholder, but it gave the redhead something to focus on. He was terrified that without it, he might end up back on Azira’s doorstep, this time screaming like a madman.

He and Christopher decided on a movie one night, a month after he’d left A.Z. Fell & Associates. On their way out of the theater, he’d caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair in the crowd and it made him stumble. Christopher held his arm up before pulling him into an embrace.

“Clumsy,” his boyfriend chided.

Anthony wasn’t sure why, but the comparison in his mind was enough to make him do something incredibly foolish. He looked into Christopher’s eyes and actually convinced himself he could love this man.

“Let’s get married,” Anthony said.

Christopher jumped in surprise and kissed him passionately, their bodies swaying on the sidewalk. When they separated, Christopher started shouting out the good news for all to hear.

“We’re getting married!” he cried. The crowd around them clapped and cheered as Anthony’s cheeks went red. What in the world had he just done? Everything had happened so fast and he wasn’t thinking straight. He had absolutely no idea how to take it back.

-

The next evening Anthony received a call from an unknown number and answered cordially, figuring it was one of Christopher’s relatives. Wedding planning had already begun. Instead, a haggard voice was on the other end.

“I suppose I should say congratulations,” Azira said. He sounded drunk.

“Thanks,” Anthony replied tightly. How had Fell found out already?

“I almost got married once,” Azira said softly.

The redhead shifted and cradled the phone to his ear. The lawyer had never shared such intimate details before. “Were you in love?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I wanted to believe so,” Azira admitted. “I just wanted to live a normal life. Is that what you’re doing Anthony?”

It was. Obviously. “Is this your way of telling me that you miss me?” he asked instead.

He heard some sharp noises through the line, indicating that the man on the other end was moving around. “I’m...I’m sorry Anthony. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Probably not,” Anthony agreed. “But you did.” He waited a beat and summoned all of his courage. “Ask me over.”

“Oh,” Azira breathed. He hesitated for so long that Anthony considered hanging up, but he knew what he wanted most in this world was so close. So close! The next sound he heard was muffled, barely within the range of human hearing, but he caught it and nearly wept at how soft and open it was.

“Yes.”

-

Azira closed the door behind Anthony, and the two men faced off. They stared at one another for a long time as if daring the other to begin.

“Are you really going to get married?” Azira asked quietly, his hands uncertain at his sides.

Anthony refused to break eye contact with the man, who looked so lost and vulnerable it was unnerving. Mr. Fell as he’d known him, a boss, a dominant, and a force to be reckoned with- was absent. The redhead wanted nothing more than to summon him back, so he steeled his gaze and breathed out.

“Tell me what to do.”

“I’m not in the position to offer advice-” Azira started, but Anthony cut him off.

“I didn’t ask for advice. I asked you to tell me what to do.” Anthony’s eyes narrowed.

The blonde inhaled sharply. For a moment he didn’t speak. And then he did.

“Take off your clothing, Mr. Crowley.”

Anthony unbuttoned his shirt slowly and let it drop to the floor. He stripped off his undershirt and hooked his fingers around the buckle on his jeans, sliding it off with a flourish. Azira’s eyes grew hungrier when the redhead teased out of his lower garments, and was soon completely bared to the man. He stood on steady feet, waiting.

“Good,” Azira said roughly. “Now lay down on the floor on your back.”

Anthony glanced at the hardwood floor and licked his lips. This was going to hurt. His cock began to fill immediately.

He dropped to the floor and rested his head back, breathing steadily. He could feel Azira’s eyes on him like a caress.

“Open your legs for me,” Azira said.

Anthony inhaled sharply and brought his knees up before letting them fall apart. He could feel the air between his cheeks, kissing his inner thighs.

“Now Mr. Crowley,” Azira said, voice drawing more strength, “I need for you to tell me exactly how you touch yourself when you think of me.”

The redhead’s hand twitched and moved over his belly, but a tutting sound stopped him.

“Oh no,” Azira instructed. “I didn’t say show me. Not yet.”

Anthony let out a soft moan. “I...I rub my hand over my cock.”

“Yes. And?”

“I like to pull on it, sometimes a little hard. I pretend your mouth is on me. I can feel your teeth if I push in too quickly.” Anthony could feel his erection straining and longed to stroke himself. His hips canted uselessly in the air.

“I see,” Azira replied. “Go on, Mr. Crowley.”

“I slick up my fingers, Mr. Fell…” Anthony’s breathing was becoming more erratic. “I...draw little circles around my asshole. I pretend it’s your fingers sliding in. You never start with just one. You’re too eager to stretch me out.” His cock was throbbing.

He heard a rustling sound but didn’t look toward the source. He had to trust in the process.

“And when you’re all nice and ready for me?” Azira asked, his voice tight.

“Oh god,” Anthony practically sobbed. “That’s when you fuck me, sir. That’s when you fuck me until I scream your name.”

“Ohhh Anthony,” Azira replied, sending a tremor down the redhead’s spine. “That’s so good. Exactly what I like to hear.”

Anthony listened to the silence for a few moments and suddenly felt his body dragged across the floor. Azira had grabbed his ankle and was now turning him around, a deep voice speaking into his ear.

“I’m going to tie you up,” Azira breathed, and true to his word, he wrapped a length of rope around the redhead’s wrists. The knot was made so quickly and so expertly, like an art form in itself. A lead was left out like a leash, and before Anthony knew what was happening, he’d been pinned against the wall.

Azira threw the extra rope up to a ring on the ceiling, pulling until Anthony’s arms were up over his head, barely able to stand on his tiptoes. And then Azira’s mouth was on his, charting a course down his body, lathing at a nipple.

Anthony watched his ascent between a series of breathy moans, and then the man was stripping off his trousers and holding himself out for inspection.

“Do you see this cock, Mr. Crowley?” the blonde hissed.

Anthony had to swallow the drool forming in his mouth at the sight of it. It was so thick and perfect. He groaned inwardly. “I see it.”

“And do you know what I’m going to do with it, Mr. Crowley?”

“Uhnnn,” Anthony squirmed. He still hadn’t found the right footing on the floor and his arms were beginning to burn. “Please, Azira,” he gasped. “Please fuck me with it.”

Azira faltered then, his lips brushing up against Anthony’s jaw, so tender. “Yes, my love,” he whispered.

Azira grabbed under Anthony’s knees and hoisted him up. The redhead wrapped his legs around the man’s waist instinctively and gasped at the sight of his own engorged cock straining against Mr. Fell’s crisp white oxford.

Azira pressed two wet fingers into Anthony’s eager hole, causing the redhead to half-shout in response. “Please! Oh yes!”

“Look at me, Anthony,” Azira commanded, and desperate brown eyes met aching blue-gray.

The feeling of connection that Anthony had craved for months was waiting for him in their depths. “Do you see me, Anthony?” Azira asked, his voice drifting into a sigh. His fingers continued to slick in and out of the younger man while easily holding him steady with one strong arm.

The redhead gasped as a third finger joined the first two. “I see you!” he panted. “I see you and I fucking love you so much Azira!”

The blonde let out a feral growl that sounded more like a wounded animal as he pulled his fingers out roughly and replaced them with his cock. Anthony felt himself filled to the brim in a single thrust, and found no sound could escape his body. All he could do was hold on with his legs and ride.

Eventually a series of sobs broke out, and Anthony felt tears streaking down his cheeks. He was so happy, so complete, so fucking hopelessly in love and he vaguely remembered there were stars in the sky but he could have sworn the entire solar system was churning inside of his body.

“Yes, love,” Azira gasped out as he filled Anthony’s hole. Anthony’s head fell back and Azira’s fingers milked his cock until he came.


	6. Chapter 6

Anthony woke up in a warm soft bed. He groaned as he rolled over. The sunlight filtering in the window flashed in his eyes and he turned away from it. He looked around the room and tried to imagine how he must have died, because this was Heaven. He was sure of it.

Azira was cuddled in an armchair next to the bed. He was wearing a cozy pair of sweatpants along with a band t-shirt Anthony could just barely make out. The Velvet Underground, no kidding. Azira’s head was bent down over a book. A pair of round spectacles were on his face and his lips were moving wordlessly along with the story he was reading. Domestic was the word that sprang to Anthony’s mind.

The shaft of light that had assaulted the redhead was threading itself through Azira’s hair, illuminating the white curls at the top. Anthony blinked and sat up. He could feel his own hair sticking up at an odd angle near his part.

Azira glanced up and smiled, and fuck if it didn’t tear Anthony’s heart in two. He looked so joyful, so youthful. A boyish smile, shy and loving.

“Did you sleep well?” Azira asked, and Anthony remembered the honey weight of it in his ear. He blushed.

“I did,” he replied.

Azira smiled again as if there was a secret between them. He laid down his book very carefully and began to remove his glasses.

“No,” Anthony whispered. “I like them.”

Azira stood up slowly and drifted onto the bed, his strong hands roaming up the sheets that covered Anthony’s body. With gentle fingers he captured Anthony’s wrists and the redhead hissed at the burn left by the rope. Azira pulled them to his lips, kissing around the angry pink marks.

“You looked so beautiful strung up for me,” Azira admitted. “I didn’t want to bring you down.”

Anthony stared in wonder at the blue-gray eyes in front of him, marvelling that he was allowed to see them so close. “I felt…” he began. “You made me feel beautiful.”

“You are,” Azira said easily, like it was a fact.

Anthony felt rather than heard a vibration on the floor next to him. He realized his cell phone was in the pocket of his jeans. Azira must have brought his clothing into the bedroom at some point.

Anthony swept down to claim it, and his eyes passed almost unseeingly over the text. Christopher.

Azira seemed to sense his unease. “Your...fiance.” He suddenly became fascinated with a small thread on the comforter, picking at it absently. “You know, Anthony… I meant what I said about living a normal life. That’s something you could never have with me.”

The redhead tensed, remembering the last time Azira had talked about commitment. How he didn’t get attached.

“I don’t want that,” Anthony said calmly. He hoped his expression was neutral rather than panicked.

“Last night was unexpected,” Azira replied.

“In a good way, I hope,” the redhead filled in quickly. He was gnawing at his lower lip again.

“In a good way,” Azira whispered. His fingers traced along Anthony’s cheek. “But we need to be realistic.”

Anthony’s heart clenched and he sat up straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

Azira shook his head fondly at the redhead before his mouth stretched into a thin line. “We can’t do this everyday,” he supplied.

Anthony narrowed his eyes and pouted. “Why not.” It wasn’t a question. If Azira still didn’t know how Anthony felt about him, or how much he enjoyed what they did together...he was at a loss.

“You need me to convince you,” Anthony said, finally realizing what was missing. He wasn’t the only one who’d been through something that ground him down, made him feel worthless. Made him feel like he didn’t deserve to be happy. His heart ached for Azira.

The blonde chuckled and rested his head on his arm. “Perhaps.”

Anthony nodded his head, determined. “Okay.”

-

Anthony’s new job was as the office manager for a small paper supply company. It wasn’t anything fancy or exciting, but it did have some unexpected perks that made it tolerable. One being a much longer and more flexible lunch hour.

Anthony left work at eleven with the intent of arriving at the law office for the first time since he’d been fired three months ago. He’d just seen Azira the weekend before, so he hoped it wasn’t too fast. Then again, that was part of the point. He needed to make Azira see that he could be part of his everyday life.

As he opened the door to the office, he was surprised to see a man with greying hair sitting at his old desk. Not that he hadn’t expected Azira to fill the position, but it was just weird to see the new version of himself in his place.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“Not exactly,” Anthony said, swaying on his feet. “I’ve come to see Azira.”

“Azira?” the assistant balked, looking puzzled.

“Mr. Fell,” Anthony smiled despite himself.

“Oh!” the assistant smiled back. “Let me make sure he’s free. I don’t see anything on his calendar. I’ll just ring him to let him know you’re here.”

“No need,” the redhead insisted. “It’s a surprise.” He started walking back toward Azira’s office before the man could object. Sometimes assuming overconfidence was key. Anthony prayed it would work on Azira as well.

The door was cracked open when he peeked in, spying the blonde hard at work. The lawyer was sitting at his desk with paperwork spread everywhere. Perfect.

Anthony strode in without a word, shutting the door behind him. Azira looked up in surprise before beginning to stand. The redhead rounded the desk and pushed him back down forcefully

Azira couldn’t have looked more confused, but Anthony kept himself in character. He inserted himself between Azira’s chair and the desk, shoving the papers off onto the floor.

“Anth-” Azira sputtered.

“Don’t fucking speak,” Anthony warned, and then his hands went to his belt. He jerked it off and snapped it over his palm, and damn if that didn’t get the lawyer’s attention. His eyes flicked from the leather to Anthony’s tented trousers.

“Go on,” Anthony commanded, watching his gaze. He leaned back on the desk and offered himself to the blonde. “If you don’t make me scream within the next five minutes, I’ll have your head,” he finished boldly. He placed the belt between his teeth and bit down hard.

Azira leaned in, delicately undoing the button and zip on Anthony’s trousers. He pulled Anthony out, hard and leaking for him before a tiny smile appeared on his lips. He glanced up at the redhead. “Four,” he challenged.

Anthony groaned as the blonde swallowed him down expertly. Just the sight of Azira bent over in his chair, having his way with Anthony on his own desk- fuck. He wasn’t sure he’d last three minutes at this rate. He’d fantasized about this moment for nearly as long as he’d been employed by the lawyer.

Azira hummed low in his throat, and the vibration echoed through Anthony’s cock. He thrust into it, not caring if Azira choked. One of his hands tangled in the blonde’s curls. He began to direct Azira, pulling him up and pushing him back, and the blonde didn’t seem to mind at all. Quite the opposite.

“That’s good,” Anthony sighed before a wicked grin spread over his face. “But is it good enough?”

Azira’s eyes hardened as they focused in on Anthony’s, and something flashed through them. In a second the blonde stood and pinned the redhead to the desk, clean trousers pressed between Anthony’s legs.

“I could fuck you right here,” Azira snarled. “I could call my assistant and force him to watch. I could turn you into nothing more than a humiliated, debased fuckboy.”

Anthony gasped into the description, his erection straining for contact as each word riveted through him. But then Azira’s mouth was back on him, and the renewed sensation coupled with the pictures that had been created in Anthony’s mind drove him over the edge. The redhead raised off the desk in a half sit-up as he came down Azira’s throat with a tortured groan. He had no doubt in his mind that the lawyer’s assistant had heard every permutation of his pleasure.

On his way out of the office, Anthony shot a look at the man to confirm his suspicions, but the assistant refused to look up from his computer, cheeks ablaze. Anthony smiled viciously to himself having ensured his claim over Azira, just in case.

“Have a great day,” Anthony called as he let himself out, only just remembering he still needed to tuck his shirt back into his trousers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony is full of surprises.

Anthony knew that a quickie at the office wasn’t going to be enough to convince Azira that what they had worked in the real world as well as behind closed doors. He wanted to prove how unashamed he was to do wicked things with his former boss, and moreover, how they could create their own way of loving one another, external opinions be damned.

It seemed obvious that Azira was ashamed of his desires, so the most natural way to upset that belief was for Anthony to push the boundaries of what desire meant to both of them.

He repeated this whole line of thought in his head one more time as he gripped the rock tightly in his fist. He wasn’t crazy after all. What he was doing was for love.

Anthony raised his hand and slammed the rock against the glass of Azira’s french doors at the back of his house. Surprisingly, there was no alarm, so Anthony proceeded to let himself in and make himself comfortable.

-

Azira arrived home and was about to stick his key in the lock when the door swung open slightly. A little alarmed, Azira poked his head through the crack and looked around. Was it possible that he’d forgotten to lock up when he’d left for the office that morning?

He took one tentative step inside, observing the interior for signs of a break in, but none of his material goods had been upset. But that’s when he looked up and had a clear line of sight to the dining table. His mouth fell open as he took in the view.

The table was laden with delicacies including caviar and champagne along with some kitchen staples like chocolate syrup and strawberries and cream. Elegant dinner candles burned on the buffet behind it, but in the center of it all, a naked and bound man was writhing to free himself from his restraints.

Azira’s hand pressed against the front door until it closed.

“Honey…” he said with a dangerous lilt in his voice. “I’m home.”

Anthony looked over at him, a panicked expression on his face. He couldn’t reply due to the ball gag in his mouth. Azira approached slowly, tugging at his tie. As he came closer, he admired the delicate twists and knots made by the rope outlining all of the redhead’s best features.

“I see you’ve been dabbling in Shibari,” the blonde said, one finger trailing over the table’s edge. He looked down at the ropes binding Anthony’s wrists, his ankles...and one wrapped around his cock to keep it from straining up too high.

Anthony mewled in response, making another attempt to wiggle out of his bonds. This drew a soundless gasp from the lawyer.

“How long have you been lying here…” Azira said more to himself. “Waiting for me to come home...and consume you.” His bright eyes danced around, taking in all of the prep work and care Anthony had put into the scene.

“Oh,” he said softly, taking note of the broken glass trailing from the back door. “Oh dear. You’ve been up to more mischief, I see. I can’t decide if I should punish you or reward you.” He leaned down until his lips lined up with Anthony’s ear. “Shall we do a little bit of both, Mr. Crowley?”

Anthony blushed and whined through his gag.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Azira said, gently removing the obstruction.

Anthony breathed in and out as if he’d been suffocating, and then he went for his most daring move yet. He stared down the blonde with contempt in his eyes, licking his lips for good measure. “You’re disgusting,” he growled.

Azira’s eyes widened and blinked. They moved over Anthony’s naked frame, his restraints and the food around him, and suddenly something clicked. He pushed the gag back into Anthony’s mouth and purred. “And you love it, don’t you?”

The redhead squirmed, his cock grinding against the rope across his hips and stomach. It was positively leaking. “Yes...you love it.” Azira swept a finger over the tip and brought it to his tongue, savoring the flavor as Anthony released a strangled groan.

The lawyer leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to the ball gag, making sure not to touch Anthony’s lips. Almost as soon as the tender moment began Azira shoved Anthony’s face to the side, pressing into the hard grain of the table.

“I think we’ll start off easy,” he decided. He released the redhead and stalked back to his room. When he came back, there was a long paddle in his hand.

Azira roughly rearranged Anthony into a kneeling position, his forehead resting on the table as his lovely ass was put on full display.

“That’s better,” the blonde said under his breath, a smooth palm running over the curve of Anthony’s backside. It was immediately followed by a hard smack from his hand. The redhead gave a muffled yelp at the resounding sting.

Azira looked over the table and drew a dollop of the cream down Anthony’s crack, leaning down to lick it off and swiping his tongue lazily over the redhead’s puckering hole. Anthony trembled at the soft sensation, both cool and hot at the same time. A sharp slap from the paddle reigned down afterward and Anthony started to pick up on the rhythm of the game. Pain and pleasure intermingled, over and over again. He broke out into a sweat, feeling his forehead slip against the table top.

He heard the sound of champagne popping and felt the cold liquid bubbling over his cheeks and leaking down the inside of his thighs. He moaned when Azira’s tongue began to lap over his skin, straining to reach the inner delicacy of his taint. The pleasure lasted longer this time, meaning that the resulting punishment would be worse. Anthony girded himself, waiting for the next move.

“How I want to fuck you,” Azira whispered before smacking Anthony three times with the paddle. The redhead made a garbled sound through his gag, trying to sit up straight. He immediately felt a strong hand forcing him back down.

“Now, now,” Azira said quietly. “We play my way or not at all. Understand?” His fingers trailed up into Anthony’s hair and pulled hard at the roots until he whined.

“I asked you a question!” Azira demanded, and then relaxed his hold on the red curls. “Oh. Silly me. I’ve left your mouth full.”

He untied the gag and let it fall onto the table, making sure to meet Anthony’s eyes. They were glistening with unshed tears, but Anthony shot him a cocky smile to brush aside any unspoken concerns.

“I like it when my mouth’s full,” the redhead snarked.

“You do,” Azira smiled back. He picked up a strawberry and held it to Anthony’s mouth, pulling it away as he tried to bite into it. Then he went the other way, forcefully pushing the fruit past Anthony’s teeth. The redhead bit down aggressively, daring the blonde to do worse with his eyes. Azira picked up the hint and nodded.

“I can see we have a lot of ground to cover,” he said thoughtfully, yanking Anthony up and pressing him down onto his back once more. He glanced down at the redhead’s swollen cock before moving the ropes aside, allowing him to spring up freely.

Azira hummed to himself as he picked up the chocolate syrup, dribbling a thin line over Anthony’s erection. Then he moved around to the head of the table, yanking Anthony toward him with surprising force. He found the binding that kept the redhead’s ankles together and pulled it apart easily, at once showing off his superior shibari skills and his desire to unwrap his lover like a present.

Anthony waited with bated breath as Azira sank down, his tongue running over the underside of the redhead’s cock.

Anthony let out a long groan, relishing the feel of Azira’s hot mouth on him, the way he chased the syrup over his length to remove every drop. Anthony’s hips were just starting to thrust forward when the blonde moved away, leaving the redhead to fruitlessly wiggle in the air.

As Azira backed up, he swiftly rolled his shirtsleeves up and unzipped his pants. Anthony’s mouth fell open in silent invitation. “Please…” he whispered, unable to contain himself. “Fuck my mouth, Mr. Fell.”

“You think you deserve that?” the blonde sneered. “You broke into my home, Mr. Crowley. You’ve upset my quiet evening and now you’re on my fucking dining table, where I EAT, simpering like a slut.”

Azira grabbed one of the candlesticks and dripped the hot wax over Anthony’s chest, his stomach, and then his thighs, drawing out restrained gasps and hisses from his lover. “Look at you,” he censored. “You’re a fucking mess.” He blew out the candle and laid it to one side with a smug smile on his face.

Azira took his time dipping his fingers into the caviar before bringing it to Anthony’s lips.

Anthony knew better than to take the treat directly, so he pressed his lips closed tightly, driving Azira to force his fingers inside. Anthony moaned as the fingers slid in, the salty taste of the caviar overwhelming his palette.

He whined, licking and sucking at the lawyer’s digits. Even Azira looked a little done in, a soft groan escaping from his own mouth at the sight. As Anthony lavished his fingers, Azira pulled out his hard length and began to stroke himself.

Anthony’s eyes tracked the movement greedily before nipping at the lawyer’s fingers, causing him to let out a yelp before withdrawing them quickly.

“I want it,” Anthony pouted with narrowed eyes. “Give it to me.”

Azira quickened his strokes as the redhead lay helpless on the table. “Maybe I’ll bring myself off without you,” he teased. “Decorate that beautiful body of yours to pay you back in kind.”

“But I’ve been so good!” Anthony protested, trying to loosen his ties in earnest now.

Azira let out a bark of laughter. “You bit me!”

“Then bite me back!” Anthony challenged, no humor in his words.

Azira’s eyes grew impossibly dark as he weighed his options, finally settling on the exposed skin of Anthony’s shoulder. He lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the flesh until it bruised. Instead of crying out in pain, Anthony groaned loudly and moved into it, seeking more contact.

“Fuck!” Azira whispered as he pulled away. “Fuck. Fuck!”

He grabbed Anthony’s hips and pressed his cock against the redhead’s opening, slipping easily into his hole. The redhead’s back arched up off the table, driving Azira deeper.

Anthony let out a string of mumbled words, begging for more. When Azira could resist no longer he finally sank inside to the hilt, marveling at the slick entrance that had been waiting for him.

“You started playing without me,” the blonde realized. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Make me pay,” Anthony mewled. His eyes were blown wide and his mouth was slightly agape, stretched from the gag he’d been wearing. Tear tracks were dried against his cheeks and his hair had turned into a wet mop of tangles. Wax spots marred his body along with pink lines where the ropes had burned into the skin. Azira had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

They barely lasted through the first three strokes, unraveling as their bodies finally came together. Anthony’s spend joined the sticky mess his body had become, completing the art work Azira had made of him. As they both breathed through the vestiges of their mutual orgasms, Azira pressed a tender kiss to Anthony’s lips.

“Come my love,” he whispered. “It’s time to get you cleaned up.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, oh dear. Anthony really is a handful.

Anthony was too weak to stand after being tied up for so long, so Azira bent down and gathered him into his arms. Anthony snuggled into the warmth of his embrace and allowed himself to be carried to the bathroom where Azira drew a fragrant bath for him.

The blonde helped him into the tub, carefully lowering him down into the hot steaming water.

“There you are,” Azira smiled, using a washcloth to trace over Anthony’s abused body. He focused on his chest and arms before moving lower, cleaning his lap and backside tenderly. Anthony hissed a little as Azira skimmed over his tortured cheeks, but that only made the blonde hum with pleasure.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Azira asked, moving on to worship Anthony’s feet. He held one up at the arch and admired a rope burn around his slim ankle before kissing it.

“Yes,” Anthony whispered. His head was tilting back as Azira began to massage his foot.

“I can’t believe you let me do those things to you,” Azira said softly. His expression contorted into a mixture of confusion and concern.

“I like those things,” Anthony retorted. “That’s what I’ve been trying to show you. If there’s consent and you enjoy it, who’s to say it’s wrong? It’s our sex life.”

Azira met his eyes hesitantly. “You said you wanted this life. I told you we couldn’t do this everyday but you seem determined.”

Anthony smiled wickedly. “I am. I want you like this. I want us like this, always.”

“Oh Anthony,” Azira said. “I want it too. I want to tease you every morning before I go to work. To leave you tied up and hard against the bed waiting for me. And when I come home...I want you to be here writhing for me, begging for release.”

Anthony sighed and let his head drift to the side of the tub, exposing the mark Azira had left on him. The sight of it gave Azira a sense of pride and ownership. His fingers trailed up Anthony’s shin and settled on his thigh.

“Then let’s do it,” the redhead stated. “There’s no one to stop us. I’ve ended things with Christopher.”

Azira gave him a tight smile. “Of course you have,” he said dangerously. It shot an unexpected thrill up Anthony’s spine and his cock attempted to stir.

“Is that what you want?” the redhead purred. “To possess me like a thing? You want to lock me in a cage until I forget what it felt like to be touched by anyone else?”

Azira nodded slowly. His hand on Anthony’s leg rose higher until it gripped his hip mercilessly. “I want nothing more than the way I’ve wanted you. I want you to stay here. With me.”

The redhead’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline. “Really?”

Azira stood and stripped his remaining clothes, joining Anthony in the bath. He pulled the redhead up the length of his body and cradled him before dipping him back to wet his hair.

“Would you?” Azira asked tenderly.

“I would do anything you asked,” Anthony answered.

The blonde smiled at him before pumping a dollop of shampoo into his palm. Gently, he spread it onto Anthony’s head, massaging his scalp in tight circles with one hand as the other rubbed up and down his chest. When he was finished, he dipped the redhead once more, smoothing the suds away from his forehead.

“It’s not just about sex,” Azira said rather needlessly. Anthony already knew, but he still wanted to say the words.

“I love you,” Anthony whispered. He found Azira’s hand in the water and intertwined their fingers.

“I adore you,” Azira replied as he kissed the back of Anthony’s neck. “I worship you.” His teeth found the soft skin of his earlobe. “And I love you more than I can express.”

Anthony couldn’t help but think back to his first days with Azira, and everything they had experienced in between. Almost from the beginning he knew they belonged together. A sudden twinge of jealousy caught him off guard, and he bit his lower lip.

“You won’t…” he began softly. “You wouldn’t...with anyone else. Your new assistant?” He hated himself for even saying the words, but he didn’t anticipate the response he received.

Every muscle tightened under his body as Azira tensed, his breath coming out in little huffs. “What did you just say?”

Anthony wiggled, trying to turn around to see the man properly, but Azira held him where he was.

“I asked you a question,” Azira hissed.

“Your new assistant!” Anthony moaned unhappily. “I want to know if...will you fuck him too? Or anyone?”

Anthony found himself hauled from the water, rivulets dripping all around the tub and onto the floor as Azira dragged him out by his waist.

“Unbelievable,” Azira said under his breath. The redhead scrambled to release himself but Azira was too strong. He was being carried to the bedroom.

Anthony gasped as he was flung onto the bed on his stomach, and a series of fabric ties were quickly attached to each of his limbs, quartering him.

“Please!” Anthony gasped. His body was so sore and bruised from the punishment he’d already received. He wasn’t sure he could take any more. But in the next instant he understood Azira’s intent.

He felt the man kneel between his legs, and the next thing he knew there was a tongue lapping at his taint. “You want to know who I’m going to fuck?” Azira growled, his breath hot against Anthony’s backside between long licks. “I’ll show you who I’m going to fuck.”

The redhead trembled at the building sensation, wonderful and sensual but not enough to get off. Azira’s tongue pressed into him, but nowhere near that delicious bundle of nerves inside his already stretched hole.

“I’m sorry!” Anthony groaned in frustration. “Azira, please!”

The blonde laughed darkly as he continued, his spit beginning to leak between Anthony’s thighs. Uselessly, the redhead rutted against the bed. Still not enough.

“This is what you’ll get,” Azira threatened. “This and nothing more for the rest of your life. I’ll never let you cum again.”

“Noo!” Anthony cried out. “I’m sorry I misbehaved! I shouldn’t have doubted you!”

“You should trust me,” Azira said before suckling on Anthony’s rim. He teased one finger inside, too shallow to produce any real relief.

Anthony screamed into the pillow to vent his frustration. He was close and nowhere near it at the same time.

Azira sat up on his knees and continued to finger Anthony’s backside as he worked his hand over his own stiffening cock.

“Are you touching yourself?” Anthony shouted. His eyes were wet with tears as he tried to crane his neck around. And then he could see the blonde, lasciviously stroking himself. Anthony felt like he was losing his mind. He would do anything for that cock inside of him.

“Mm I’m getting close,” Azira teased. “Is it good for you?”

“No!” Anthony spat back at him.

“God but you look fucking delicious,” Azira said. “You should see how your cheeks vibrate. How beautiful you are spread out for me like this. I should cum all over your back.”

“Azira!” Anthony said weakly. He pulled at his restraints, irritating the rope burns on his wrists and ankles.

Azira leaned back down and renewed his assault on Anthony’s hole with his tongue. “You love me?” he asked before pushing his whole face into his crack and humming.

“Oh god yes!” Anthony cried out.

“You trust me?” Azira asked, straightening up and aligning his cock with Anthony’s eager hole.

“Yes! I swear!” the redhead was crying in earnest now.

“Good,” Azira replied darkly. “Then don’t ever ask me that again.”

With that said, he thrust smoothly into the redhead and Anthony sobbed. The pillow under his face was a soaking mess but he bit into it as Azira rode him, each stroke hitting the spot he wanted most.

“Oh god!” Anthony wailed. “Yes, yes, yes, please! Fuck!” He was terrified that Azira might break off at any moment, leaving him unsatisfied.

Azira grabbed Anthony’s hips and yanked him up to fuck into him faster, one hand moving around to slide over his neglected cock. Anthony might as well have gone blind as his orgasm ripped through him, shattering him like stemware on concrete. He could feel Azira pulsing inside of him and knew he must have finished at the same time.

“I love you,” Anthony whimpered as Azira undid his ties. “I love you Azira.”

“Shh,” the blonde soothed. “I know. Of course I know. I love you too, my dearest.”

Anthony sniffled as he wrapped his body around Azira’s, lesson learned...for now. In the darkness of the room, Azira couldn’t see the wicked smile that formed over Anthony’s lips.


End file.
